Don't You Want Me?
by Can't Get Any Better
Summary: Dave finally had the perfect "straight guy" high school life - friends, sports, and a hot girlfriend. He was content to spend his last year at McKinley living a lie. Then he got a new lab partner and everything sorta just went to hell. KarofskyxOc SLASH.
1. Who's That Guy?

_Disclaimer: I _ONLY_ own my Oc. Nothing else. _NADA. _Terribly sorry in advance for the name but I do explain it later in the story. If you're a true Gleek you'll understand why I had to do it._

_~*_Don't You Want Me?_*~_

_By, Can't Get Any Better_

_Chapter 1: Who's That Guy?_

_!~*~!_

_Who's that guy?__  
><em>_Paulette: Where did he come from?__  
><em>_Who's that guy?__  
><em>_Stephanie: Where can I get one?_ _- _Grease 2 Cast

_!~*~!_

With a drawled out yawn, David Karofsky (simply Karofsky to anyone not a teacher that wanted to keep their teeth intact) threw the flimsy comforter away from his body before throwing his legs over the side of his bed to sit up and stretch out his tense muscles. With all the extra workout time he'd been pulling later, the tremendous crick in his neck was proof it was long overdue for him to upgrade from a single to king-sized and soon.

He reached over and slapped the snooze button on the blaring radio alarm clock on his nightstand that threw his room back into a calm silence. He had half a mind to take full advantage of the calm and just slip back into unconsciousness for a few more minutes.

"Don't even think about it, David!" he heard the sound of his father's voice bellow from most likely his parent's bedroom down the hall. Grumbling to himself and stretching out his neck muscles until it gave a satisfying "pop"; Karofsky pushed himself up from the bed and headed out into the bathroom.

Standing underneath the warm spray from the shower helped relax Dave's tense muscles. As he lathered his hair up with shampoo and conditioner, had unconsciously found himself quietly singing the lyrics to "Welcome to the 60s" from Hairspray (the 2007 version, he wasn't even sure if that song was in the original).

"_Oh-oh-oh-oh-ooooh. Go, Mama, go, go, go!"_

Soap-on-a-rope held to his mouth like a microphone, Dave's singer grew a little louder, so much that his voice began to echo off the tiled walls of his bathroom.

"_Welcome to the sixties. Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey Mama…!"_

A knock at the door startled the boy so much that the soap slipped from his hand causing him to nearly trip over. Quickly scooping up the falling item and slamming it onto the rack dangling from the showerhead, he ripped the curtain back, blinking the suds from his eyes.

"What?" he demanded to whoever was on the opposite side of the door.

"Dave, were you singing?" he father's voice answered from the hallway.

"Uh… nah, Pop," he replied quickly. "You hearin' things now?"

"Nobody likes a smartass," he father called back light-heartedly before the sound of his feet shuffling away down the hall allowed Dave to relax a bit.

Moving back to stand underneath the running water, Dave sighed heavily before stepping forward and allowing his forehead to drop against the wall, hard enough where any normal person would have cried out but Dave remained silent. After a moment he moved his hand up to smack against his forehead.

"Stupid!"

Half and hour later, – fresh, dressed and ready to go – Dave came jogging downstairs into the kitchen. Sitting at the small, wooden breakfast table, his father was in one seat, the morning paper opened and turned to the sports section, sitting next to him was good ol' Grandpa Murray shakily brining up a mug of piping hot coffee to his lips. He took a sip before grimacing and placing the mug back on the table.

"Son, I've hacked up shit that tasted better," he commented, giving his son a disapproving glare which Paul Karofsky seemed to completely ignore.

"Keep it up and you'll find out how good the coffee taste at a home," he mused, chuckling when he peered out the corner of his eye to see the horrified look in his father's face before the old grouch picked up the coffee and forced it down.

Karofsky chuckled at the exchange, used to occurrences like this before his father and grandfather. Reaching in the fridge he retrieved the half-empty carton of milk and chugged down what was left of it before tossing the weightless carton into the trash next to the fridge.

Digging back inside, he rummaged around the scarce amount of food inside, shrugging as he pulled out banana.

"I'm out," he announced as he threw a wave to the two other men before heading out of the kitchen and moving through the living room towards the front door.

"Have a good day, son. Tell Lisa I said hi."

Hearing that name, Karofsky stopped and visibly flinched.

Lisa Dewan was McKinley High royalty— superhot, superpopular, and had an unfathomably attraction to one David Karofsky. She was a prominent member of the Cheerios and almost every guy at school had either been with, or fantasized about being with her. And she was also currently Karofsky's girlfriend. What on earth made her pull a power move and ask _him _out off all the guys in McKinley he still wasn't sure, but there wasn't a chance in hell of him turning down a babe like Lisa; people would get suspicious.

If he had to pick a reason, it would probably be due to Lisa ex, and Karofsky's arch enemies, – now that he and the singing, dancing freak show were on neutral terms – Scott Evans. Scott was captain of the McKinley hockey team, the sport that had always played second fiddle in the popularity ranking to the Titans. He cheated; Lisa probably decided what better way to get even than sleeping with the enemy of her enemy – not that they'd got to the sex part yet. Dave still wasn't comfortable going there just yet.

Why he could never be like one of the regular, girl-loving assholes he hung with inside and out was a question that Karofsky struggled with day in and day out. Sure, there were programs around that promised they could "cure" his little problem, but Karofsky wasn't that stupid – he had a lifetime membership with the flamers, but that didn't mean he had to accept or acknowledge it.

Always one for exercise, and since McKinley was only a short, ten minute walk from his place, Karofsky didn't mind saving his Pop money for another car and took happily traveled the walking distance to school, he liked the thinking time the walk provided him anyways.

When he arrived at McKinley, the first person he noticed approaching him was his best accomplice, (he didn't like him enough to actually be friends) Azimio Adams. The two had a bit of a falling out once Dave aligned himself with Santana to form the "Bullywhips", but, once he was elected Prom King (an award he was soon happy to forget after learning his Queen) and Santana got a big, fat nothing, that alliance crumpled and it was back to his original motto: "A slushie a day keeps the losers at bay."

"Karofsky, my man!" Azimio greeted him with a man-shake.

"What's up, A?" Karofsky replied with a grin. He looked down and noticed the melting blue slushie in his friends grasp and his grin grew larger. "All right, who's on the agenda for a slushing this morning?"

Azimio gives him a puzzled look before he looks down at the slushie in his hand and shakes his head. "Aw, naw man this one's for me. You know I can't slushie the losers until I handle Big Papa."

A few more members of the Titans found their way over to the group and a conversation about the Hotties of McKinley ensued. The last person to be asked about the subject, Karofsky only smiled and agreed when he felt necessary, and only spoke when directly spoken to by the others. Just as he began to get way too uncomfortable with the discussion, the boys quickly hushed down as Azimio looked over Karofsky's shoulder and smirked.

"Here comes your girl," he spoke, hitting his shoulder.

Frowning, Karofsky turned around just in time to catch the lithe, curvy frame of Lisa as she lunged herself into his arms, instantly going on the attack of his lips. At the catcalls and whistles of his friend's behind him, Karofsky put on his automatic façade of pretending to enjoy it, closing his eyes and deepening the kiss while his hands snaked their way down to wrap around the girl's tiny waist.

For some reason, he found himself comparing her full, glossed-up lips to the thing, slightly chapped lips of Kurt Hummel the first time they'd… had a run-in of the lips that day in the locker room. Even though it'd only been for a few seconds, he couldn't help thinking that his lip entanglement with Hummel was… softer… better… real.

His eyes all of a sudden snapped open as Lisa's hands did some exploring of their own, trailing from his chest, all the way down to the crotch of his jeans. He gave a surprised grunt as, shielded by his wide figure, Lisa curled her hand around his junk, groping him through his jeans.

He abruptly broke the kiss, giving her an uneasy smile to which she purred in response before snuggling into his side. They turned back to face the guys who were all snickering while giving them amused looks.

"What?" Lisa asked innocently, once again dragging her manicured nail over the material of Karofsky's t-shirt. "Jealous that I picked a real man over you little boys?"

"Oh, baby," Azimio began, stroking his eyebrows back. "Trust me, ain't nothin' little over here."

"C'mon, dude," Karofsky grimaced at the mental image of Azimio anything but fully clothed. Homo or not there were just something's that you didn't want in your head.

"Gross," Lisa retorted. "Gotta go catch up with the girls. I'll see _you _after class."

Karofsky hadn't even noticed Lisa's hand move yet again until it squeezed his ass and he jumped slightly. Giggling, the girl gave him a flirty wave before jogging off to go and join a group of girls near the student parking lot.

Moving towards the front steps of the school with Azimio and the rest of the Titans in tow, the sound of a revving engine caught Karofsky's attention. Halfway up the steps, he stops and looks into the parking lot as the crowd of students standing around all stopped and stared at the glistening, red Ashton Martin DB9 Volante now parked in the one of the spaces.

"Whoa."

Gay or no gay, if there was one thing Karofsky knew—it was cars. Though he couldn't work on them for shit, he knew what he liked and what he didn't like when it came to a sleek automobile, and the metal beauty his eyes were was currently beholding he definitely liked.

"Damn!" Azimio commented. "That's a sweet ride."

"Whose ride is it?" Karofsky asked, not taking is eyes away from the parked beauty.

"Please, a ride like that—it's gotta be that Motta girl."

"Honey?"

"Nah, man, I think it's Sugar or something."

The skinny, dolled up girl dressed from head to toe in name brand labels emerged from the passengers' side of the car, eyes covered by large, Prada shades and arm holding up a matching bag. Giving superficial waves to those around her, she moved to stand at the trunk of the car, waiting as the door on the drivers' side opened.

"Who the hell's that?"

Climbing out of the car, a gangly with the exact same height and physique of Sugar (minus the tits) with shoulder-length bleached blond curly hair stepped into the parking lot. From Karofsky's range, he could see the boy was definitely colorful – lime green tank top, red skinny jeans, a black leather jacket and white sneakers with what looked like neon green laces.

Reaching inside her purse, Sugar handed the boy something that looked like a cell phone which he became engrossed in as they moved through the crowd, ignoring the stares the duo received as they passed.

"Aw hell, just what we need – another fruitcake. That was a dude, right?"

"Think so," Karofsky responded noncommittally.

That tank top definitely fit too snugly on that kid's chest for there to have been boobs, but, other than Hummel, he'd never met another guy that… petite.

"Damn, it's bad enough we still got Princess Hummel and butt-monkey sprinkling their fairy dust all round here—now we gotta deal with a he-she too!"

Karofsky didn't respond. Thoughts were running a mile a minute through his head about the identity of the mystery boy, and just how much effort it'd take to avoid him because the _last_ thing he needed was another kissing-Kurt-in-the-locker-room fiasco.

!~*~!

If there was one thing that Karofsky knew he'd never understand—it was Spanish. He had enough trouble completing class work assigned to him in other classes in his own language and now they expect him to do it in foreign languages too! And why the hell did he need Spanish to graduate anyways? It wasn't like he planned on chumming it up in Mexico or Paraguay or anywhere else they spoke the language anytime soon.

Gnawing nervously at his fingernails, Dave sighed and glanced longingly up at the clock resting on the wall near the door of Mr. Schue's classroom, begging for it to somehow move a little faster.

"David. ¿Tiene la respuesta?"

_Shit_. Karofsky swore mentally. He didn't even have a clue what that meant, but from the expectant looks the vested, good-haired teacher and everyone else in the classroom were giving him, they were obviously expecting some form of answer.

"Uh…."

Snickers. He heard the sound of someone in the back mutter the word _"Idiota,"_ and he sure as hell didn't need to be a genius to know what that meant. Whirling around in his seat, he saw the annoying snickering faces of Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang and Mercedes Jones.

"Silenciar," Schuester reprimanded the trio and they quickly quieted down. "David, continuar."

At the intrusion of the knock on the door, just when Dave opened his mouth to give what surely would have been the wrong answer, the jock thanked his lucky stars for the distraction, hoping it'd give him enough time to force the answer out of one of the little nerd sitting next to him.

"Yes, can I help you?" he heard Mr. Schue ask the newcomer while Dave turned to the boy next to him.

"Tell me the answer or I slushie you every day for the rest of the month," he threatened the shuttering boy. Leaning in close, he made himself appear more threatening. "You hide, I find you."

"Yeah, hi, is this Spanish II? Are you Mr. Shuester?" he heard a bored, unfamiliar voice drawl.

After being told the answer by the trembling tenth grade, Karofsky smiled confidently, ready to prove just how "smart" he was to the class. He looked to where Schuester stood near the door and his eyes nearly bulged from his head.

It was the same boy from the parking lot who'd gotten out of the kickass car with that unfortunately-named Motta chick. Standing in the doorway, an uninterested expression on his face, Karofsky felt his breath catch in his throat. Snapping his eyes shut, he forced the indecent thoughts about the boys stunning good looks from his mind. He wasn't that person. He _couldn't be _that person.

"It is, and I am," Schue responded clapping his hands. He skirted back over to his desk and picked up the class roll while the boy slowly stepped further into the class, ignoring the curious stares he was receiving from the rest of the class. "And you must be… Sundae…? Motta!" He sounded more surprised by the last name than the first.

Al and Andie Motta had a fascination with pushing the envelope when it came to naming their children. There were the twins, Sugar and Sundae, and finally their youngest brother, Pony. Everyone wondered what could posses two people with such class and decorum to give their children such horrendous names. Even the nurse who'd delivered the twins had to ask the couple twice if they were absolutely positive with the names they'd selected for them following their birth. The entire staff just assumed the woman was still doped up on morphine when word spread about the name she and her husband had selected their settled on.

"Any relation to Sugar Motta?" Will asks, though, with the name of a desert, he was pretty sure he already knew the name.

"Twin sister, Fraternal," he replied with a shrug, stepping forward and handing the teacher his transfer sheet. It should've been obvious with names like that.

"All right, well, bienvenido. I am your instructor Senor Schuester, and welcome to McKinley."

"Thanks," the boy replied in his gentle tone, a genuine smile on his face.

"Um, why don't you just take a seat next to… Rebecca. She'll catch you up with where we are until we can get you settled in. Rebecca would you raise your hand, please."

A mousy-looking, African-American girl with glasses and curly black hair slowly raises her hand. Sundae looks to where she sits near the back and smiles to Mr. Schue one last time before beginning to move through the rows towards his sit.

Closing his eyes and counting back from ten (a method he found to has little effect) Karofsky resisted the urge to check out what kind of junk the boy had as he passed right past him to get to his new seat. He heard the sound of a chair sliding and the boy's bag dropping to the floor before the classroom grew quiet once more.

"Oh, before I forget, Mr. Motta is there anything you'd like to share about yourself with the class about yourself?"

Sundae doesn't even flinch when every eye in the class turns to look at him. Putting on a pondering face, he shrugs.

"Unlike my sister, I don't have self-diagnosed Asperger's — if I insult you, I mean it."

Everyone's eyes widen in surprise, including Mr. Schue's who seems to take a moment to let this new information digest. After a moment he nods and claps his hands.

"Well, okay then. Uh… let's continue."

In the front seat, Karofsky couldn't stop the grin that slowly spreading across his lips as the boy's voice played back in his head. Unlike Hummel, this one had a little backbone. Why did he find that… cute?

Quickly shaking the thoughts from his head, Dave gave an annoyed huff, thankful that, in the interruption, Schuester had forgotten that he was waiting on a response from him. Propping his elbow up the table to drop his head into his hand, Karofsky could only wonder: _I wonder if this is the type of shit Tom Cruise goes through?_

* * *

><p>AN: So, what'd ya think? Before I go on I wanna clear something up very quickly: this is DAVE's STORY. While, yes, Sundae is my OC and will sometimes be focused on, this story will center around Karofsky. The reason I'm pointing this out is because you usually see stories with OCs where they're introduced in the first chapter and the WHOLE story is focused solely on them and their problems and not the character we're actually reading the story for. Plus, while I do love and enjoy my OC Sundae, his life really just doesn't get my juices flowing like the angsty good stuff I get from writing Dave' drama-filled life. So, to be clear, this story will mainly revolve around DAVE.

Okay, rant out of the way. I started writing this story after seeing episode _"I Am Unicorn" _but it does contain elements from _"Asian F" _including Mercedes joining Shelby's glee club and possibly Mike's family issues... I dunno yet. But nothing from that point on is cannon in this fanfic, meaning no Rory Flanagan (though I may bring him about given an opportunity in the story), and Santana and Brittany are still in New Directions.

I happen to already be seven chapters written in this story and beginning the eighth sometime tonight so if you guys give me positive feedback _(i.e. favorites_ and_ reviews please)_ there will be no super-extended breaks during this story as I never seem to be uninspired to write more troubles for Mr. Karofsky.

So, this brings about the end of my super-long, unnecessary A/N. Thank you for reading and _(PLEASSSE)_ reviewing and most importantly enjoying :D see you VERY soon.


	2. Honey, Honey

_Disclaimer: I _ONLY_ own my Oc. Nothing else._

_~*_Don't You Want Me?_*~_

_By, Can't Get Any Better_

_Chapter 2: Honey, Honey_

_!~*~!_

_Honey, honey, how you thrill me, ah-hah, honey, honey__  
>Honey, honey, nearly kill me, ah-hah, honey honey – <em>Mamma Mia!

_!~*~!_

If there was one thing that truly annoyed Sundae Motta down to his very core (other than his twin's annoying "Asperger's") it was being the fucking new kid. Sure there were the stares, the whispers, the rumors that would no doubt immediately begin flooding from ear to ear by some loser with no life. All of that he could handle no problem. But what really grinded his gears was the inevitable scenario of the changing of lockers.

Call him superficial, but Sundae had very specific requirements when it came to locker placement, and more often than not the boneheads in the main office got screwed things up.

Every time he'd either get a locker next to a broken water fountain next to the boy's bathroom, a working water fountain next to the girl's restroom or he'd get the locker across from a working water fountain usually right across from the smelliest boy's bathroom in the school that made him usually avoid the locker all together. It was a simple request: a locker near a functional water fountain that didn't produce brown liquid, and a bathroom that didn't smell like the bathroom from the original SAW. Was that seriously too much to ask? He didn't think so.

So far things at McKinley High were exactly what he'd expected them to be. Nothing so far had surprised him… except for one very strange little blonde girl he'd met in his Parenthood class who insisted on knowing if he was "another dolphin?" that or if he could give her "sweet lady kisses?" either way, he'd made it very clear to the teacher come tomorrow he'd appreciate a seat far away from the troubled girl.

Moving through the halls to his locker (thankfully it had a relatively piss-scent-free bathroom but the fountain was, of course, out of order) and reached into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve the locker combo that he'd been given by the secretary that morning.

Entering the digits into the lock, he managed to open the squealing, rusty brown door to stuff the books he'd received in his first period Spanish class inside. He'd finished up the homework the teacher, Mr. Schuester, had assigned during his free period. Closing the door, he leaned against the row, preparing himself for the next and possibly most strenuous hurdle that he'd have to jump for the day: lunch. For some reason he couldn't shake the images of a "Mean Girls" full-on animal frenzy breaking out in the cafeteria from his mind. With this being his first time doing the whole public school experience, he wasn't sure if things like that actually happened.

"Sunny!"

_Fuck my life_, the boy groaned mentally at the annoying perky, high-pitched voice calling out his name. Opening his eyes, he forced a smile as he saw the familiar face of his older twin sister, Sugar, rushing towards him.

"So, how's the first day going?" she asked pulling him into a loose hug.

"It's… going," he responded after some thought.

"So you haven't had any problems? I figured you'd have been dumpster-dumped like six times already considering you look like a walking rainbow piñata." Gasping she placed her hand over her mouth and giggled innocently. "Oops, sorry, Asperger's."

"Sugar, you do know that I'm aware that you don't really have Asperger syndrome right?"

The girl tilts her head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Rolling his eyes, Sundae shakes his head. "Never mind. Do you have lunch this period?"

"Uh-huh," Sugar replies with a nod.

"Cool, I'll just sit with you then."

He moved to walk past her in the direction of clawed secretary had informed him was the way to the cafeteria when he arrived this morning. Gasping, Sugar gripped his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Sorry, I'm not going. I'm spending my lunch period in the music room rehearsing with Shelby."

"Oh, you mean that new show choir director Daddy hired to help you with your voice?"

"As if. I'm really only doing it because I'm hoping some of my talent will rub off on her. You should hear that woman's voice: it's really kind of depressing. Maybe if she's lucky she'll pick up a few pointers from a true born star-to-be."

Forcing a smile, Sundae shook his head when the girl happened to look down to inspect her manicured nails. Shrugging she returned her cheerful smile before pulling her brother into another pat-on-the-back hug.

"Have fun. I'm sure someone will let you sit with them, even though you're wearing that horrendous eye-sore of a jacket. Oops, there's those Asperger's again. Well, gotta run. Buh-bye."

Giving him a five-finger wave, the girl turns and struts off down the deserted hallway, bopping her head to a silent tune.

Rolling his eyes at her retreating back, Sundae turns and begins making his way towards the cafeteria. When the familiar croak of his sister "singing" "Big Spender" echoes off the walls and fills his ears, he shudders and quickly picks up the pace.

!~*~!

At his usual table in the cafeteria, Karofsky sat with Azimio on his left currently devouring what once was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And to his right was Lisa, halfway in his lap. She sat with her back pressed into his chest while she talks animatedly on her cell phone to another one of the Cheerios sitting only halfway down the table from them.

Rolling his eyes at the girl whilst everyone's attention was elsewhere, Dave eyes happen to glance across the cafeteria and his entire body involuntarily tenses when he noticed a familiar head of bleached-blonde hair sitting in the far corners of the cafeteria, leaning with his back pressed against the wall, legs on either side of the bench and eyes closed giving him a look of pure serenity. Narrowing his eyes, Dave could just make out a pair of lime green headphones trailing from the boy's ears down his chest and disappearing inside his jacket.

"Take me to the Janitor's Closet and I can take care of that for you?"

Karofsky jumped at the sound of Lisa's voice in his ear. He had absolutely no idea what the girl was referring to until her palm suddenly pressed into the crotch of his jeans down against the sudden erection he possessed.

"Uh…?"

"Yo, Karofsky?" Azimio thankfully interrupted and Dave could almost kiss him.

"Yeah, bro?"

"After school, the fellas and I are gonna give McKinley's new queen and give him a grape-flavored welcome?"

"Are you talking about that new Motta kid?" Lisa asked, moving away from Karofsky to look to Azimio. "He's kind of hot in a Bill Kazluit sort of way."

"Dude, you gone just sit there and let you woman have some Lesbo fantasy about some fairy?" Azimio demanded, shaking his head.

"Oh shut up, man! Why would she need a girl when she's got a full grown man right here?"

Powering himself to go through with the whole charade, he leans forward and presses his lips against Lisa's. She smirks against his lips, latching her arm around his neck and deepening the kiss. After what felt like an eternity, she releases the boy and, while everyone re-directs their attention, he quietly gasps for air.

"Whatever. So you down or not?" Azimio asks.

Glancing over his shoulder at the new boy briefly, Karofsky turns back to his friend and grins cunningly.

"Hell yeah!"

!~*~!

Lunch passed without incident for Sundae. He didn't make any new friends, not by a long shot, but he got through it alive with the help of his iPod, and a tremendous amount of patience not to open his eyes and lash out at every pair of eyes he could feel analyzing him. He really didn't care if people judged or gossiped about him, but he'd really love it if they waited until his back was actually turned or he wasn't only a few feet away.

Circling the wires of his headphones around his iPod, he slips the device back into the back pocket of his jeans before he makes his way towards his final class of the day which happened to be his Chemistry class. The boy sighed in relief as he looked over the schedule he'd also been given by the secretary. Not only was he good at Chemistry, but he also thoroughly enjoyed mixing up chemicals to see what interesting reactions they made. So far he hadn't caused any fires or blown any science wings away so he figured there was no harm in continuing with his little experimentations until such an event did occur.

!~*~!

Already bored out of his mind before class even started, Dave sat at his lab station, head down in his arms prepared to just sleep away this final class, it wasn't like Mrs. Ackerman had any problem failing him before when he actually stayed awake anyways.

"Class," said failing bitch suddenly called everyone's attention. Dave didn't move. "Including you Mr. Karofsky!" the woman snapped. With a sigh, the large reluctantly sat up, giving the woman an irritated look—until he recognized the person standing next to her.

"Everyone this is Sundae Motta. This is his first day at McKinley so let's give him a big, warm Titian welcome."

Silence. Warm welcoming wasn't really common at McKinley.

Mrs. Ackerman clears her throat.

"Anyways," she continues. "It looks like everyone else is already paired up so, unfortunately, I'm afraid I'll have to assign you to be partnered with Mr. Karofsky."

"What?" Dave gasps, jumping from his seat. "But Mrs. Ackerman he's a—"

"Sit down David or so help me I will send you straight to Principal Figgins office!" the woman snapped, silencing the larger boy. "Lord knows you don't need any more suspensions on your record this year!"

Dave grumbles obscenities under his breath as he slowly returns to his seat, but he doesn't dare speak up again as he knows her words are very true. One more suspension and he could kiss any shot he had at being scouted and getting the hell out of Lima good-bye.

The woman fixes him with a pointed, but triumphant, look before her expression softens as she turns back to Sundae who looks completely unfazed by the boy's outburst. This is obviously something he's dealt with before.

"If he gives you any problems, please, just let me know and I'll see what I can do about finding you a different partner." David rolls his eyes, already planning on how he'll run the kid away. "And I'll also be sure to make sure that when they expel him this time it sticks!" Mrs. Ackerman continues, her voice raised and cold, and definitely directed as Karofsky.

The boy groans, dropping his face into his palms and dragging them down. This was his senior year, and he had enough worries about whether he'd get enough credits to even graduate or not. This was the last thing his needed.

"Go ahead and take your seat and we'll get started."

Sundae nods and moves from the front of the class over to Karofsky's station. Neither boy made eye contact with the other until Sundae was seated comfortably. Mrs. Ackerman was beginning her lecture at the front of the classroom just as he looks over to the larger boy seated next to him, his eyes directed straight ahead.

"Look," he begins tersely. "You don't wanna work with a fag? Fine. I seriously doubt that you'll be of much use to me anyways. So, I'm gonna do us both a favor—I do all the work, and if anything needs to be presented I'll just tell you what to say and when to say it so we both don't look like complete morons, okay?"

Karofsky looks to the boy and he can't resist checking out his face—flawless skin, deep, piercing blue eyes, full pink lips. Shit! He's fucking gorgeous! I'm so fucked.

"Whatever," the jock grumbles, quickly turning away back to give Mrs. Ackerman his full attention for the first time ever.

Next to him, Sundae scoffs and rolls his eyes before looking forward and doing the same.

Scrunching his eyes closed, David forced himself to think about anything else but those lips wrapped around his throbbing… _Oh fuck..._

The boy whimpered softly as he suddenly felt his cock stiffen beneath his boxer shorts at the exciting images that suddenly flashed through his mind. Quickly, he turned his body away from his station partner, shifting towards the wall in an attempt to conceal the tent beginning to form in the crotch of his jeans.

There were definitely a lot of things that David Karofsky didn't know, but if there was one thing that he was no doubt, one-hundred percent completely sure about, it was that this was going to be one long ass year.

* * *

><p>AN: Alert to ALL readers, I just realized that anonymous reviews were disabled on my profile. And I know ('cause sometimes I am one) that people often don't feel like logging in, and, of course, gotta love our lurkers who like to drop an untraceable review every so often so YAY! That's on so lurk till your hearts content! Oh, and the whole lyrics-to-go-with-the-title thing that I do at the beginning of every chapter? It isn't a permanent thing. I'll only do it for the chapters which were inspired by song. So, yeah, just wanted to let you guys no in case you thought it was a permenant thing.

So, yeah. Thanks for all the love and support from those who reviewed/alerted/faved the first chapter. And I'm so excited to see what kind of an audience this story grows (hopefully it will grow one) 'cause I do have fun things planned to get you guys involved. As usual fav/alert and especially REVIEW! Lates


	3. Purple, The New Black

_Disclaimer: I _ONLY_ own my Oc. Nothing else._

**WARNING!: **_So, this story is rated M for a reason. There is a bit of sexual content in this chapter but nothing too serious (clarification: no sex... yet) but still, it's there. So you're being forewarned. _

**_~*_****Don't You Want Me?_*~_**

_By, Can't Get Any Better_

_Chapter 3: Purple, the New Black_

At the sound of the final bell, Dave bolted out of the classroom like a bat outta hell. Even Mrs. Ackerman was obviously surprised by the boy's more pressing haste to get out of class today from her expression when he zipped past her out the door.

Heading to the closes bathroom he could find, Karofsky hurried inside, first making sure that he was completely alone in the room before rushing into one of the stalls and locking the door behind him. Once he was alone inside the small confinement, he glanced down at the very pressing problem protruding from his jeans.

A whole hour with that boy and he'd never been so sexually wound up in his life. Just when he finally lost the boner he'd received from fantasizing about Sundae Motta giving him head, the fucking idiot just had to go and start sucking on the eraser of his pencil while he listened intently to Mrs. Ackerman lecturing at the front of the class, taking a break every so often to write certain things down before the lucky pencil was slipped between those lips yet again.

He'd tried to ignore it, tried to focus on anything but those plump lips wrapped tightly about that pencil, but nothing worked. Even picturing the time he'd accidently walked in on Grandpa Murray in the bathroom doing his full frontal rendition of "I'm too sexy" for the mirror couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to what it'd be like if the boy took that pencil out and decided to wrap his lips around something a little more needy than that eraser.

Deciding that there was no way he could face anyone out there with the aching erection, he knew that there was nothing but one thing left to do. Listening intently for any sounds in the eerie, deserted bathroom other than his own, the boy moved to press his head against the wall of stall, unzipping his pants and freeing his throbbing shaft from its imprisonment beneath his jeans.

He'd jerked off before; it came with the obnoxious little gift of puberty along with acne and pubes. While most other guys either fantasized about their girlfriends, or Jessica Alba or Katy Perry, Karofsky couldn't shake his former fantasy of choice that involved himself and a certain Mr. Ashton Kutcher. But now, the only face that came to his mind as he gripped himself was Sundae — a close up mental video of his lips suctioning against that eraser.

Giving long, slow strokes to his shaft, Dave moaned softly, the feeling of the touch definitely working as he felt a blissful feeling rip through his body. He moved his free hand up to press against the wall to steady him as he sped up his moments, his fingers caressing the flesh of his member as he tugged back and forth, faster and faster.

Beads of sweat rolled down the boy's brow as his moaned softly, sliding his slick forehead against the wall. In his mind, instead of his hand, vivid images of Sundae pleasuring him with tongue instead was slowly but surely driving the boy insane as low moans and whimpers escaped from his lips while he dragged his hand rapidly back and forth over his stiff rod.

Gripping the top of the stall tightly, Dave gave a throaty growl as the sensation of pure ecstasy quaked through him. His knees buckled and, had it not been for his iron grip of the stall, he was sure he would have slipped to the floor.

He waited for the bliss of afterglow to pass. Looking down, he grimaced at the mess he'd made of the wall, and his shoes. Rolling his eyes, he reached over and grabbed a long strip of the toilet paper roll, first cleaning his man-juice from his palm and fingers, then moving to clean up his scene. Tossing the used paper into the toilet he flushed before slowly unlocking the stall door and peering out, thankful that the bathroom was still empty.

Rolling up the sleeves of his letterman jacket, the boy swore as he saw the time was now ten minutes after the final bell. Azimio and Lisa would definitely both be bitching about him being late meeting them after class.

Rushing from the bathroom, he made his way out into the empty hallway, jogging up to the front door and rushing out. He looked around, seeing that the student parking lot was halfway empty, and the last few stragglers standing around the campus were beginning to clear out.

"C'mon, please I just bought these shoes!" he heard a familiar voice pled.

Hurrying in the direction of the sounds, he turned the corner to find Azimio, flanked by two other footballers, currently cornering Sundae Motta in a corner of the school, each of the three boys holding purple-colored slushies in their hands. Off to the side, a bored look on her face as she filed away at her nails, Lisa sat at one of the tables in the courtyard.

"Azimio!" Karofsky called as he made his way over. He noticed Sundae look of at him, his annoyed expression darkening as he recognized Karofsky.

"Hey there, partner," he spoke with a sarcastic grin. "Mind telling your little ass-monkies here to kindly back off?"

"What?" Azimio hissed. "Boy, please stop talking before I drink this slushie and just shove the cup down your throat— then again, you might like that."

Sundae laughed harshly while Karofsky's checks flushed red having just come from… handling himself while fantasizing about something very similar.

"Karofsky," Lisa whined, getting up and moving over to stand near him. "Can we get this over with already? I'm ready to go."

Smiling, Azimio turned, revealing a second slushie in his right hand. He extended it to Dave who hesitantly reached out and accepted it. Sundae scoffs from his position in the corner, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

"Figures," he grumbled.

"Now that the committees all here," Azimio began as Karofsky moved to stand next to him, a disturbed look on his face. "Let us personally welcome you to McKinley. Hope you like grape."

Heaving a sigh, Karofsky gripped the slushie cup tightly in his hand before pushing it forward and releasing its contents into the air at the same time as the others.

!~*~!

_Can't fucking believe this!_ Sundae growled in his mind as he stormed up into his bedroom, slamming the door as loudly as possible behind him. The framed photos other glass decorations on his wall rattled due to the vibrating wall from the force of the door shutting.

He shrugged out of his grape-slushie-soaked, ruined favorite leather jacket and tossed it onto the floor, not caring that it was sure to soak into and ruin his cream-colored carpet. He stormed over into his walk-in closet (which was really about the size of any normal person's bedroom) and stood in front of the large mirror that covered one complete side of a wall.

His shirt was splotched with purple stains that would be hell for the maid's to wash out; his pants were the most unharmed by the attack, only with a very faint splotch of purple on the kneecaps. His shoes however, the shoes he just bought only a week ago, they were completely ruined. The white areas stained with splotches of purple here, there and everywhere. Growling in frustration, the livid boy kicked them off and tossed them off further into the closet, not paying attention to where they landed.

He ran his fingers through his sticky hair and grimaced at the purple that remained in that as well coming off onto his hands.

"Son of a bitch!" he screamed as he stormed from the closet, moving back into his en-suite bedroom and heading for the bathroom to start a long, warm bubble bath that he most certainly would need to unwind.

"Well, at least now you have an excuse to get a new dye job because your old one sucked." Freezing in the doorway, he slowly turned on his heels to find none other than his twin lounging on his bed flipping through a Seventeen magazine.

"Let me guess," he drawled. "Asperger's?"

"No," the girl replied lightly. "Just a friendly suggestion."

"Sugar, now is really not the time."

Rolling her eyes, Sugar huffed and rolled over from her belly to her back, looking up at the ceiling.

"So you got slushied, big deal. It was bound to happen sometime. It's not the end of the world, Sunny. You might not know this, but your whole "me, me, me" attitude is really off-putting."

Gawking at his sister incredulously, Sundae fumed, shrieking as he stormed over to the door and yanked it open, stabbing a finger in the direction of the hall.

"Get out!"

Huffing, Sugar hops off the bed and moves for the door. "I'm gonna tell Daddy you yelled at me," she pouted, turning on her heels to whip her hair into his face before stomping off, her heels clacking against the marble floor of the hallway.

Rolling his eyes, Sundae slams the door shut once more before he drags his exhausted body back into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind him.

!~*~!

Entering his home, Karofsky immediately noticed the motionless form of Grandpa Murray sprawled out on the couch in the living room, the television currently going, showing the old man had fallen asleep in the middle of some baseball game.

Walking into the kitchen, Dave checked the digital clock on the stove and figured that by now his father was probably on his way to work which meant that he and Murray would be feasting on hotdogs and frozen French Fries tonight as those were the only things he could successfully cook without burning the house down. Well that and anything you can unwrap and microwave.

Moving upstairs, Karofsky headed into his bedroom, tossing his backpack aside and immediately moving over to his bed to fall back flat on his back to look up at the ceiling. The springs squealed under his weight but nothing more as the boy lied there, staring up blankly.

He couldn't shake the appalled, disgusted look that Sundae had given him (and his ruined outfit) just after being doused by four full cups of grape slushie. Honestly, Dave felt sick to his stomach about having to do that. But, at the same time, it also felt a little good.

It was sort of twisted, but slushing people helped him feel more… normal, like he really was just a regular jock doing the thing jocks did best: picking on those that didn't belong. The sad truth was no matter how many slushies he threw, the feeling of normality could only last but for so long before the reality that he also didn't belong slowly but surely crept back to him.

Groaning, Karofsky flipped himself over onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillows.

Sometimes David wanted to cry. To just let it all out and crying always seemed to be the best way to do it on those chick flicks he found himself enamored with on nights when his Dad and Grandpa Murray were both asleep. But he couldn't do that. Crying was a sign of weakness, and if there was one thing that Karofsky could never allow himself to be, it was weak. The weak didn't survive for long in this world, and they sure as hell didn't survive at McKinley. No, David Karofsky was strong, and he'd pummel any losers who dared say otherwise.

Pushing himself up off his bed, Dave stripped himself of his jacket and shirt, leaving his himself in only his bare chest and jeans. Standing in front of the mirror, Dave admired his strong upper torso. He knew he was a bit more stacked than most other guys at McKinley, and his muscle mass added to the baby fat that he never shed growing up, it made him a pretty big guy, which also made it easy for him to intimidate others. Well… not Hummel. No. Hummel saw right through him, and that scared the living hell out of him.

Though Kurt had made him a promise that he'd never expose his secret, Karofsky knew that nobody did anything for free, and now that his Bullywhips stint with Santana was over, he made sure to avoid the boy like the plague at all cost. He felt terrible about the way he'd treated the dramatic little diva, but fear and intimidation were just the ways he always used to get things done his way. He'd never seriously hurt Kurt, or anyone else for that matter. Sure he could get into a scuffle or two, and blacken a few eyes, but he could never do any real damage.

Picking up his dumbbells, and strapping his Mp3 player to his bicep, Karofsky did the only thing he knew how to do to cope with stress: he worked out. He worked out until his muscles ached from exhaustion and he couldn't hold the dumbbell another second longer without risking losing an arm.

Yanking his headphones from his ear freeing himself of the hardcore lyrics of Eminem, Karofsky dropped his sweat-drenched body back onto his bed, his breathing jagged, and his chest heaving.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty?" he heard the sound of his Grandpa shouting to him from downstairs. "You planning on feeding me down hear sometime soon?"

Chuckling softly, Dave shook his head before pushing him up from his bed and making his way out of his room to clean himself off with a shower before changing into some pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt and going downstairs to take care of the cranky old veteran. If people thought he was scary, they'd never seen his grandfather when he got hungry. That was scary.

* * *

><p>AN: Haha. I just love writing for Grandpa Murray. I think he's my favorite :D So not much to say this time. I'm sick, it's cold. Not a good combo. I'm gonna go curl up with some Chicken Noodle Soup and _Lifetime_ and hopefully I'll be better soon. See you awesome peeps next week. Ciao!


	4. When I Get You Alone

**Disclaimer:** I ONLY own my Oc. Nothing else.

**_~*_****Don't You Want Me?_*~_**

_By, Can't Get Any Better_

_Chapter 4: When I Get You Alone_

Karofsky awoke the next morning, muscles seriously aching from his intense workout session the pervious night. After performing his usual morning routine for getting ready for school, the boy made his way downstairs where, as usual, his Dad and Grandfather sat at the kitchen table—Paul with one half of the morning paper, and Murray with the other.

"Morning, sport," Paul greeted him cheerfully. "Thanks for getting Dad dinner last night."

"You call that dinner?" the old man snorted. "The dried up meal kits they served in the service was a five-star meal compared to that crap!"

Paul sighed, rolling his eyes. "Dad, you weren't in the military."

"Exactly."

"That makes absolutely no sense. Don't you ever have anything nice to say?"

Murray stared at his son, struggling to come up with something. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to the paper.

"You've gotten less ugly over the years."

"Thanks, Pop, love you, too."

Murray made a mimicking face of the man before he completely tuned him out, chuckling as he read over the daily comics.

Completely oblivious to their exchange behind him, Dave raided the now fully-stocked fridge, grabbing a bottled Sunny D and another banana before closing the fridge.

"Later Pop, see ya Gramps."

Without waiting for a response, Dave made his way out of the house, now wishing that he hadn't gone the extra mile whilst pumping iron last night considering the walk ahead of him and how stiff his muscles were.

"Fuck my life," he moaned before tugging his backpack higher onto his back and beginning his trek.

!~*~!

Peering around the corner, Sundae checked around to make sure that there were no signs of anyone wearing a red and white letterman jacket before he cautiously stepped from behind the row of lockers and made his way fully into the congested hallway of teens moving back and forth to get to their destinations.

Sundae Motta was not a punk, far from it. He could defend himself if necessary… in a one on one fight. But when it came to just his one self against three other guys that outranked him in both size and possibly even physical strength, he decided it was better to just play is safe than stupid this once; at least until he caught each of them when they were alone. Then he'd had his revenge.

So far he hadn't had any run-ins with the guys who'd permanently put his favorite jacket and new shoes out of a job yesterday. But he was pretty positive he'd be seeing at least one of them at a later time: his new lab partner. The boy simmered just thinking about him. Oh yes, he'd have his revenge; starting with the big oaf who sat next to him sixth period.

Arriving at his locker, he opened the squealing door and pushed his Spanish book and tablet inside, swapping the items out for his Calculus textbook and dropping it unceremoniously into his messenger bag. He slammed the locker door closed onto to nearly jump from his skin at the person standing behind it, grinning at him.

"What do you want, Sugar?" he asked, knowing the chances were that he'd soon regret doing so.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were all right. After your bitch-fit last you didn't come out of your room at all last night. Pony and I were worried."

_Sugar Motta actually caring about someone's feelings other than her own?_ Twins or not that was truly a first for him. Usually the girl couldn't see past her own reflection to care about anyone else's feelings she squished under her designer pumps.

"I'm a little better actually," he replied with a small, genuine smile. "Thanks."

"Hey, what are twins for?" she replied with a grin. "Oh, B.T.W., Daddy's flying back in tonight. He and Mom want to take the three of us out for dinner as a welcome home party. Dad says he'll let you pick this time."

Rolling his eyes, Sundae shook his head and replied, "I'll pass," before turning on his heels and beginning to walk away.

"Sunny," Sugar groaned as she reluctantly jogged to catch up. "Daddy said he really wants to see you after..." She trailed off, not really knowing how much of a sore subject this was for her brother.

"He'll get over it," the boy replied flatly, so much finality in his sentence that Sugar rolled her eyes, defeated.

"Y'know, you can be a real bitch sometimes. No wonder I'm the favorite."

Gaping, the boy stopped and turned to his sister with a look of disbelief. Giggling, the girl smiled and moved into kiss his cheek.

"Sorry, Asperger's. Love ya."

With a look of sheer annoyance, Sundae watched the girl strut off, shoving anyone who dared step in her way aside until she rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Turning on his heels, the boy continued the way he needed to go as well.

!~*~!

Lisa was seriously starting to work on Dave's last nerve. It was one thing to not even be able to force himself to be physically attracted to the girl, but added onto that the fact that he didn't even really like here even on a friendly level made keeping up the whole dating pretense all the more difficult.

The only thing she ever really wanted to do was grope him and make-out constantly, and while Dave wouldn't have minded that all that had the circumstances been different, he couldn't even have a real conversation with the girl as every time he tried she always found a way to make everything he said somehow about her and her problems. Basically, the girl was a superficial slut—wet dream to the straight man, worse nightmare to the gay.

"So, you wanna hang out tonight?" the girls inquired, waggling her plucked eyebrows suggestively at Dave. He gulps nervously.

"Uh… I have to work tonight," he suddenly remembered, thankful for the excuse.

He'd recently just gotten a job at the local supermarket in an effort to help his father out with things around the house. Since his mother walked out on them, things hadn't been exactly easy for the Karofsky men with taking care of bills and Grandpa Murray as well, and every little cent helped.

Lisa gave a childlike pout, a gesture Dave would have found a little cute had he not despised the girl so.

"When are we gonna have sex, David?"

Karofsky was incredibly thankful that he hadn't been drinking anything because had he been he was sure he would have just showered the poor girl in it. But that didn't stop him from choking on his spit and doubling over into a coughing fit. Placing her hands on her hips, Lisa narrowed her eyes at the boy until his finally caught his breath and looked to her with surprised eyes.

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Well we've been dating for, like, two months now and you haven't even really tried to get in my pants."

"I thought I was being respectful," Karofsky lied. Sweat beads began to form on his forehead.

"We had a whole month for that!" the girl exclaimed, thankfully no one near them seemed to be paying attention.

"Fine," the boy hissed, keeping his voice low. "You wanna have sex we'll have sex. Just not tonight."

"When?" Lisa demanded.

"Uh… this weekend."

It was only Thursday — he had a full two days to think of a way out of this.

"Y-yeah, this weekend. That'll work, right?"

"Totally! Well gotta run, see you after class, cutie."

Dave waited until Lisa was long gone before he scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. Was it normal for couples to just plan sex? And to plan it in a public setting nonetheless? But, then again, it wasn't like they were really a normal couple at all.

Lunch came and went without anything exciting or new occurring. Karofsky and Azimio provided some of the science geeks and underclassmen with their daily slushies. Azimio even managed to score a direct facial-hit to Tina and Mike Chang Schuester's glee club. Considering the semi-truce he held with the New Directions as a promise made to Kurt in trade for keeping his little secret, Karofsky made sure that he was elsewhere when that went down though.

By fourth period, Karofsky was a little hopeful when he entered the classroom a few moments later than usual, that he'd find his station once again vacant and that Motta had run and told Mrs. Ackerman about the incident that took place after school yesterday.

However, he was greeted with the shocking surprise of Sundae already seated comfortably on his stool, drumming his fingers against the top of the table while tapping his pencil against some of the test tubes.

Frowning, Dave glanced over to Mrs. Ackerman who wasn't glaring at him any harder today than any other. Utterly baffled, the boy cautiously made his way to their station at the back of the room and took his seat at the sound of the bell. _Why the fuck didn't the little bitch squeal?_

The class passed without a single harsh word spoken between Dave and his new partner. Surprisingly enough, the boy even offered to help him with the lab Mrs. Ackerman assigned once she finished her lecture on today's topic.

Karofsky watched Sundae work, his eyes intently focused on the worksheet in front of him. Every now and then his straightened blonde hair would fall into his face, and Dave's fingers itched to reach forward and tuck it away back behind his ear. But he didn't move, only sat and watched the boy rapidly complete the lab, much earlier than over half the rest of the class in fact.

Handing the proudly smiling instructor his sheet, he blew out a breath before turning to the jock, what looked like a genuine smile spread across his lips.

"You need any more help?" he offered.

Karofsky eyed him with an incredulous look. Just yesterday he'd thrown grape slushie into every nook and cranny on the boy's body, and today he was smiling and offering to help him with his class work (which he actually really had no idea what he was doing)? Something about that just didn't make sense.

Suddenly, like a knife, realization slashed trough Dave's gut: Sundae was scared of him.

Normally, a discovery that yet another person knew to cower in fear whenever he was around gave him a sense of accomplishment, but not this time. The only other time he could recall ever feeling this lousy was the time Kurt Hummel transferred schools just to get away from him, and right into the arms of his preppy, tool of a boyfriend.

"Nah, I'm good," he replied unsurely, turning away and just scribbling down—wrong odds were—answers onto the sheet before holding it out for Mrs. Ackerman to accept.

Just to confirm his suspicions, she looked at the page she'd just been handed and, after a moment, she laughed.

"Be glad this course isn't required to graduate, David," the old bitch remarked, giggling to herself before returning to the front of the class.

Narrowing his eyes at her back, Karofsky flipped the woman off before sighing and slumping down in his seat. He heard a snicker come from beside him and his blood began to boil when he looked next to him to find his partner laughing.

"Something funny butt-boy?" he sneered.

Sundae looked to him, an amused grin played across his lips as he shook his head.

"Nope," he replied. "Not a thing."

Narrowing his eyes at the leering boy as he placed his head into his hand and re-focused his attention on a strand of his hair which he began idly twirling between his fingers, Karofsky couldn't help but wonder just what was wafting around in his head.

After class, Dave was dreading going home and getting ready for work. All he really did was throw out empty boxes, rally in shopping carts people left scattered around the parking lot, and helping out the frail old geezers who needed assistance take out and load their groceries into their cars. Not a lot a work for seven bucks an hour, but he still would have much rather been lounging around the house playing video games and watching college football.

The moment he exited the classroom he instantaneously began in the direction for the same boy's restroom he'd went into the prior day, this time for a reason much less scandalous: he really had to fucking pee.

Mrs. Ackerman, taking pride in inflicting any form of torment on the boy she could, refused to allow him a bathroom break during class, happily letting everyone else who asked pass. The jock strongly considered going to Figgins and reporting the woman's actions, but he knew nobody really gave a shit about the feelings of the school jerk so he settled for flicking balls of shredded paper into the bird's nest she called hair whenever he back was turned.

After draining the snake, he moved to open the stall door and headed over for the sink to wash his hands.

He was completely taken by surprise, however, when he was suddenly roughly grabbed from behind by the arm which was quickly twisted behind his back. He cried out in surprised before he was then violently shoved face-first against the tiled walls of the restroom.

"What the fuck?" the jock yelled, partly from surprise and also pain as his arm was wrenched harshly from behind by his unseen aggressor. He tried to wriggle free of their steel grasp on him, but every time he move to much it backfired on him inflicting more pain on his captive arm.

He felt another body press tightly against his from behind shortly before the hairs on his neck stood on end as someone's breath tickled his ear and neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, pencil dick," a soft, calm voice whispered into his ear and Dave's eyes widened in recognition.

"Motta? What the fuck is this, rape?" he yelled before howling in pain as the boy wrenched his arm further behind him. "Ah, bitch! That fucking hurts!"

Dave groaned in pain as, yet again, the boy inflicted more pain on him. If he wasn't in so much agony, he would have been impressed that such a small boy was capable of something like this against a guy twice his size.

"You see, I don't think you're understanding the "_shut up_ and _listen"_ part," the smaller boy hissed, once again tugging at the boy's arm.

Dave silenced, fearing that if he argued anymore he might just possibly loose his arm.

"Good, that's good. Now, first of all, I want you to thank your lucky stars that I don't have plans of getting kicked out of this shithole school of yours just yet or I'd have already dislocated your arm by now. But I do want you to hear me very clearly, Karofsky.

"I am the _last _guy that you want to fuck with. Not because of whom my Dad is or what people I know, but because I will _always_"—once more he wrenches and Dave shouts in agony—"find a way to fuck you harder. So, the next time you and your douche friends decide that you want to try and give my hair a new dye job; I _strongly _suggest that you reconsider. Otherwise, I will wait until each of you are alone and one by one make you regret the day you first laid eyes on me. Understand?"

Dave didn't respond. One part of him was furious that this newbie had the balls to not only attack a guy capable of the damage he could inflict, but go as far as to make threats. The other half was unfortunately slightly aroused by his choice of "fuck-me-fuck-you" choice of wording.

Suddenly, the boy jerked his arm upwards and Karofsky growled, attempting to withstand the pain.

"I said," Sundae spoke clearly, enunciating every syllable. "Do. You. Understand?"

"Yeah," Karofsky hissed, his words slightly muffled with his face being pressed up against a wall and all.

He released a long sigh of relief as the pressure on his arm abruptly disappeared, leaving nothing but a throbbing ache. He instantly slid down to the floor, cradling his abused limb to his chest. He looked up Sundae who stood over him, hands on his hips and his hair tugged back into a ponytail. If he hadn't been so blinded by fury at the moment, Karofsky would have mentally acknowledged just how great the boy looked with his hair that way. Instead, he steadily breathed in an out, trying to calm himself and not end the boy right then and there.

Sundae smiled at him as he rolled down the sleeves of his thermal shirt. He'd obviously been prepared for more of a fight from the athlete.

"Great!" he said enthusiastically, clapping his hands together. "I'm _really _glad we had this talk. See you tomorrow, partner!"

With a tiny wave, the pixie-like boy left the bathroom, leaving Karofsky watching him go, eyes blazing and chest heaving as he struggled to control his anger. Never once had anyone gotten away with doing something like that to David Karofsky without at the very least a black eye or swollen lip until now, and the fact that he didn't want to retaliate against Sundae slowly began eating away at him.

One thing was certain though: he was pretty positive that he'd been wrong about Motta being afraid of him.

!~*~!

Making his way to his car in the student parking lot, Sundae could wipe the Cheshire cat grin from his face. After asserting his dominance and proving that he wasn't just gonna be some spineless victim for Karofsky and his idiot friends to pick on, he'd searched a bit for any of the other guys who'd jumped him after school yesterday but sadly the ones he did spot were flanked by other large jocks and Sundae knew it'd be best for him to wait a little longer for the vengeance he was sure to have.

When he arrived at the freshly polished Ashton Martin, he found Sugar already seated in the passengers' seat, smacking loudly on a piece of gum while, what sounded like _"Sugar"_ by Flo-Rida and Wynter blasted from the bubble gum pink headphones in her ears.

Just as he began to get in, his sister opened her mouth and began croaking out the lyrics to the song, earning their car disapproving glares from the students who were already standing around ogling the expensive hunk of metal.

_"My lips like sugar…! This candy got you sprung…!_"

"Sugar!" His shouts for her attention went unanswered.

_"So call me your sugar! You love you some!"_

Rolling his eyes, Sundae reached over and snatched the headphones from her ear causing the girl to whimper, rubbing her ear as she looked at him heatedly.

"What'd you do that for?" she demanded.

"I was trying to get your attention."

"Ever heard of "excuse me"?" she retorted with a roll of her eyes before sitting back in the seat, huffing as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Speaking of your singing—don't you have glee club rehearsals with Shelby today? It is Thursday."

Sugar waves a dismissive hand and replies, "I'm skipping it."

"Why?"

"Dad's dinner, duh. Now are you gonna drive or what?"

Sundae processed that information for a moment before a metaphorical light bulb snapped on in his brain.

"Sugar, you drive home. I'm not gonna make it."

"What? Why?" the girls demanded, smacking loudly on her gum.

"Look, I never offer to let you drive my car and this will possibly be the only shot you get. Are you taking it or not?"

He dangles the keys in front of her face and Sugar eyes them for a long moment, pondering, before she shrugs and quickly reaches out to snatch them from his hands, giggling as they both hop out of the car and she glides into the drivers' seat, rubbing her hands lovingly over the steering wheel.

"This car should totally be mine."

"Look, just know that if you wreck it, you better die in the crash to otherwise I'll kill you." The pointed look he gave the girl showed that he was completely serious.

Rolling her eyes, Sugar waves dismissively at him before stabbing the key into the ignition. She giggles excitedly when the vehicle purrs to life before she pulls the gear shift back into reverse. Pushing her foot on the break, she looks out the passengers' window where Sundae is watching with an unsure look.

"Dad's gonna be really disappointed when you don't show."

"I'm sure he'll get over it," Sundae replies bitterly.

Sugar's expression softens as she sees the hurt hidden behind her brother's eyes.

"Sunny…."

"Just go before I change my mind."

Not needing to be told twice, Sugar shrugs before taking her foot of the break and peeling out of the student parking lot, leaving a loud cloud of smoke in her wake. Coughing, Sundae wipes the fumes from his face before turning on his heels and heading back in the direction of the school.

* * *

><p>AN: No time to talk. On the run. Sorry it took so long, December tends to be SUPER busy for me. ENJOY!


	5. Taking A New Direction

**Disclaimer:** I ONLY own my Oc. Nothing else.

**_~*_****Don't You Want Me?_*~_**

By, Can't Get Any Better

_Chapter 5: Taking a New Direction_

Walking aimlessly through the crowded halls of McKinley, Sundae groaned as he came to yet another hall filled with nothing but closed, locked doors. He sighed, leaning up against the wall and lolling his head back. _Well this turned out to be a dud_.

He kicked his foot back, taking out his frustrations on the wall at the same time as pushing himself forward so that he could continue moving.

He stepped out into the deserted courtyard, walking a little slowly and dragging his boots, scuffing them against the cement. He reached back into a side pocket on his messenger bag, retrieving his cell phone to call Sugar as there was really no other alternative left other than to just go home, get all dolled up and suffer through the stupid dinner with his parents and siblings, a realization that had his fingers hovering over, but not pressing, the number one speed dial button to connect him with his sister's cell.

Sighing, he pressed the button, begrudgingly bringing the phone up to his ears as it rang once, then twice.

"Pick up already," he groaned as the phone continued to ring without answer. "Damn it, Sugar!" he hissed, shoving the iPhone back into his bag when he reached her voicemail. He continued walking, deciding to try her number again when he reached the parking lot.

After a few moments of peaceful silence and more purposeless walking, Sundae heard the sound of his phone vibrating in his bag. Sighing he reached into to retrieve it, sliding the little bar across the screen to answer.

_"Hello? Sunny?"_

Sundae opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when he suddenly heard what sounded like voices coming from not too far away. Frowning, he began moving towards the sounds of the voice, which gradually began growing louder as he moved towards a door leading back into the school.

_"Sundae? Hello, can you hear me?" _His sister impatiently demanded on the line as his phone hung from his hand by his side. _"If you're going to call someone, remember to speak when they call you back, dumbass. Not Asperger's!"_

After that he got the sound of a dial tone. Stopping, he lifted the phone up to his face to shut it off before he continued towards the sound of the voice, coming to what appeared to be the only open room in the hall. He stood outside the door, listening.

"All right kids, so, our lesson for today is…"

Mr. Schuester stopped as suddenly a knock came to his door. Puzzled, he and the eleven other students in the room looked in that direction where, standing awkwardly in the doorway, Sundae Motta looked into the room and gave everyone a half-smile.

"Uh… yes?" William asked gesturing for the boy to come inside. "Sundae can I help you?"

"Sundae?" Finn repeated, confused. "Like the day of the week?"

"No," the boy replied confidently as he entered the room. "Like the desert."

"Your parents named you after a desert?" Tina gasped, placing her hand over her chest.

"Wow, and I thought I had problems," Artie whispered.

"How can we help you?" Schue asked, giving the boy a comforting smile.

"Well… you do direct the glee club right? This is glee club?" William nods in response. "Oh, well then I want to audition."

Mr. Schuester looked to him with a genuinely surprised and even a little terrified expression.

Placing the marker he held in his hand down on the whiteboard, he moved back to fold his arms over his chest, giving the student and unsure look.

"Oh, really? Uh, are you sure you wouldn't feel more comfortable joining the glee club your sister's in, Mr. Motta?" he inquired, a little more hopefully than he would have liked. He really wasn't sure if he had it in him to reject yet again kid from his glee club.

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Rachel spoke up, sitting forward in her seat. "Motta? As in tone-deaf, talent-deficient, I-had-to-get-my-ears-checked-after-listening-to-her-"singing" Motta?"

Sundae smiled and chuckled knowingly.

"You've heard my sister sing." It wasn't a question.

"The girl with the road-kill voice and nice ass is your sister?" Puck asked, earning a disapproving look from the instructor for his language. He didn't notice.

"I say we let him join," Brittany, the strange girl from Sundae's Parenthood class spoke. "Maybe, if we have another dolphin, we could start our own aquarium."

Down the row, Kurt simply smiled placidly while, next to him, Blaine's puzzled expression conveyed that he was still in the process of trying to understand the girl.

Next to Brittany, Santana eyed her strangely. "Um… I don't think that's how it works, Britt. But I do agree we should let him audition — I could use a laugh."

"All right, all right, guys," Mr. Schue silenced the students before turning back to Sundae. "Well, you're more than welcome to audition if you'd like. Are you prepared now?"

"Well all I need is a pian—" he stopped when he glanced over and saw a man in a black jacket and slacks smiling at him from behind the piano. Until he blinked, Sundae had sworn the man was just a weird prop or something. He smiles back uncomfortably. "Oh, well, okay then."

Moving over to the man, he whispered into his ear with the New Directions members watching intently as the man nodded before Sundae moved to stand in the center of the floor before them. Mr. Schue walked over and took a seat with the students, an uneasy look on his face.

"This ought to be good," Kurt whispered to Blaine before crossing his legs with a smirk.

"He can't be that bad," the former Warbler responded quietly.

Kurt gave the boy an incredulous look. "You weren't here for the train wreck that was his sister's audition."

"Whenever you're ready," Schue spoke, giving Sundae a smile though his insides were constricting as he tried to figure out how he'd survive rejecting yet another student from the New Directions.

Sundae turned to the pianist and nodded his head, the man nodded back before he slowly began playing. He took in and released a deep breath.

_"I need another story__  
>Something to get off my chest<br>My life gets kinda boring  
>Need something that I can confess<em>

_'Til all my sleeves are stained red_  
><em>From all the truth that I've said<em>  
><em>Come by it honestly I swear<em>  
><em>Thought you saw me wink, no<em>  
><em>I've been on the brink, so…"<em>

Sundae paused. Taking a deep breath he opened his mouth and gave it everything he had.

_"Tell me what you want to hear__  
>Something that were like those years<br>I'm sick of all the insincere  
>So I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_This time__  
>Don't need another perfect line<br>Don't care if critics ever jump in line  
>I'm gonna give all my secrets away…"<em>

Half the New Directions were already slack-jawed. Not only was this boy not tin-eared like his sister—he was actually pretty good!

His voice was definitely softer than the other males in New Directions. He possibly fell into a category with Kurt's, although, Kurt's voice was obviously more superior when it came to range as Sundae seemed more comfortable keeping his voice soft and seductive, and avoiding getting in over his head with the high notes.

_"Oh, got no reason, got not shame__  
>Got no family I can blame<br>Just don't let me disappear  
>I'mma tell you everything<em>

_So tell me what you want to hear__  
>Something that were like those years<br>I'm sick of all the insincere…  
>So I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_This time_  
><em>Don't need another perfect line<em>  
><em>Don't care if critics ever jump in line<em>  
><em>I'm gonna give all my secrets away!"<em>

As the last note of the piano faded away after the performance, Sundae opened his eyes and couldn't help but smirk smugly at the teens sitting before him, soaking in all of their awed stares and shocked expressions.

Singing had always just been something he could do well. He never really showed his talent off much and since just about everyone and their mother knew that Sugar could sing just about as well as Fran Drescher with sore throat, and they always just assumed that he would that being vocally-challenged ran in the family. He lived for times like this to throw other's judgments back in their faces.

"So… am I in?"

After the shock slowly wore off, a slow round of applause rose from most of the New Directions members, all except Rachel Berry who was a little put off about having to fight off another potential solo-stealer, and Kurt Hummel whose jaw still hadn't fully made its way up off the ground.

His eyes immediately darted to Blaine who was smiling and clapping for the boy and this made him frown. If it wasn't bad enough that this boy was another countertenor, he just had to be a countertenor that was also pretty easy on the eyes as well. He'd learned to tolerate dealing with Rachel, but there wasn't enough room in New Directions with the slim chance of stealing his already trivial amount of solos.

"Wow that was really impressive, Sundae!" William complimented, getting up from his seat. He walked over him and clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Welcome to the New Directions."

"What?" Rachel and Kurt gasped simultaneously, Kurt even going as far to jump from his seat. "Mr. Schue shouldn't we at least maybe take a vote or something? Discuss this with everyone else before making any rash decisions."

"What's to discuss? He was good," Santana replied, eying the boy with a seductive smirk. "Plus he ain't bad to look at either which is less than I can say for you, Gretel."

"Well if we just let people into glee club just based on your libido than we'd have over half the male population of McKinley in here," Rachel retorted, a frustrated look on her face.

"C'mon Rachel you heard him, he was good. And with Mercedes gone we do have a spot to fill," Finn attempted to persuade his girlfriend who rolled her eyes, huffing as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Oh, Finn be quiet," Kurt snapped at his step-brother who appeared surprised by the outburst. "Mr. Schue, to quote Mercedes who regretfully has traveled down the wrong path and could not be here today to say it herself: oh _hell_ to the no!"

"Kurt, come on, are you saying that because you really don't think he's talented or because you're just worried he'll outshine you?" Blaine proposed earning a glare from his boyfriend.

"You are tap-dancing on _very _dangerous territory, Blaine Anderson." He turned his head to address the entire room. "I'm not worried, I just for once agree with Rachel… as frightening as that may be. Majority rules and I believe that we should put this to a vote is all."

At the front, Sundae rolled his eyes, listening to everyone talk about him as if he wasn't even there standing in front of them. Stepping off to the side, he went to go and lean against the piano while Mr. Schue took his former spot, standing in the center of the room in front of the students.

"Fine, we'll vote then. All in favor of allowing Mr. Motta into the New Directions please raise your hands."

Every hand in the room sans Rachel and Kurt's went up, with the two odd men out glowering at their sheepishly smiling significant others next to them. Excitedly, Brittany stretched out both her hands high into the air.

"And all opposed—"

"Really don't believe that's necessary, Mr. Schue, thanks," Kurt sighed, folding his arms.

"Well then, welcome to New Directions, Mr. Motta."

!~*~!

"I can't believe you joined New Directions!" Sugar shrieked into her brother's ear causing Sundae to flinch at her high-pitched shouting.

"Well I couldn't find the glee club you're in," he responded half-heartedly. He really hadn't cared which glee club he stumbled upon, as long as they had a schedule that kept him separated from his parent's presence he'd be more than willing to sign up.

"Well, I suppose in a way it makes sense that they'd accept you — they obviously don't know talent when they hear it. And everybody knows that I have more talent in my French tip than you do in your entire body."

"You know, Sugar, I love you. But if you don't find a way to get that "Asperger's" under control, I'm going to punch you."

Getting up from his place on the sofa, he moved over to the television set, kneeling down in front of the family's vast collection of DVD and Blu-ray movies. He frowned, placing his index finger over his lips as he browsed over the various titles and genres to choose from.

"Dad was really disappointed that you didn't come to dinner," Sugar told him from the sofa. "Mom too."

"Oh, and is that why the moment they paid for the check they got right back on a jet and flew off to Chicago?" Sundae retorted, not taking his eyes away from the movies.

"It was business."

"It's always business with them. Now which do you prefer: horror or romantic-comedy?"

Sugar shrugs. "Whatever has a hot guy taking his shirt off in it."

"For once I do believe we're on the same page, dear sister." He retrieves a copy of the 2009 remake of Friday the 13th and moves to pop it in to the DVD player rigged up to the massive theater-sized television. "Pony! You better get down here if you don't wanna miss the movie!" he shouted into the ceiling

Moments later, the sound of running footsteps could be heard before a boy, with looks more resembling to Sugar than Sundae, entered the room, walking over and plopping down on the long, stretching sofa next to Sugar who rolls her eyes before beginning to file her nails.

"What are we watching?" he asks, his eyes glued to the screen of the PSP in his hands.

"Friday the 13th, the 2009 remake," Sundae answers, turning on the movie and moving to sit in between the two, ironically creating the order in which the trio had been born.

"Ooh, Travis Van Winkle. I approve," Sugar purred, swiping her tongue out over her lip.

"Gross," Pony moaned, placing the PSP face-down on his shirt. "Oh, Sunny, what did you do with the letter?"

Sugar's eyes suddenly snapped from her fingernails, growing wide as she turned to her brother, mouthing the word "no" from over Sundae's shoulder. Frowning, Sundae looked to his brother, puzzled.

"Letter? What letter?"

"The one that Esmeralda gave to me that I gave to Sugar to give to you from Dillon."

Sundae's eyes widened in surprise as he turned to Sugar who was now glaring at the fourteen-year-old.

"Sugar what's he talking about?"

"Uh… well, I was gonna tell you about the letter, but then you told me about the whole you-joining-New Directions thing which completely mind-boggled me, and I still can't believe you did that, BTW. I mean what kind of twin—"

"Where's the letter?" Sundae demanded silencing his sister's intentional ranting.

Huffing, she reached into the back pocket of her white skinny jeans and retrieved a folded and slightly wrinkled sheet of white paper. Sundae took the paper from her, slowly getting off the sofa as he unfolded it, unconsciously moving forward as he began reading over it.

_Dear Sunny,_

_I know I'm still probably the last person on earth you'd probably want to hear from. I don't blame you, and I feel terrible about the way things ended between us. I want you to know that I'm not giving up on us, and that I'm going to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again and get you back._

_SYS,_

_Dill._

Sundae glowered at the note, crumpling it in his palm before tossing it out into the trashcan next to the bar.

"Told you he'd do that," Sugar muttered to Pony behind him. "I suppose now would be a good time to mention the phone call as well."

Sundae whipped around to face his sibling. "Phone call? There was a phone call?"

"Um… yeah. Sunny, Dillon's coming here, to Ohio."

"Well then I guess that means I'll be leaving this weekend. What day's he coming so I can let our pilot know I'll be departing?"

"No, that's not what I meant. He's staying."

All the color drained from Sundae's face at her revelation.

"Staying? Staying where?"

"In Lima," Sugar responded with a shrug. "He said he'd convinced his parents to send him to some all-boys school named Dalton Academy. It's apparently just outside town."

"An all-boys school?" Sundae laughed. "Oh yeah, that'll be perfect for him."

"He figured you'd say that," Pony spoke up. "So he told Sugar to promise you it wasn't like that."

"You were eavesdropping!" Sugar screeched, glaring at the young boy. He shrugged, returning his full focus to the movie where two soon-to-be-mutilated young adults were having a very graphic romp in a tent.

"So what are you gonna do? I recommend something to that hair before you see him again because…" Sugar trailed off; catching sight of the cold stare she was receiving. "Sorry."

Sundae sighed. Shaking his head he stalked back over to the sofa and plopped down between his siblings, his face full of thought. Sugar didn't speak again. She may not be the most tactful person, but she knew when she was pressing her luck when it came to her twin brother.

"This is the best movie EVER!" Pony exclaimed, ogling the bare-chested woman on-screen.

Smirking, Sundae lifted his hands to shield the whining boy's eyes. Though this new information was far from forgotten, there really wasn't much he could do about it now but just wait it out and figure out where to take things from here.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry that I've been away for so long you guys. With Christmas and New Years I've just been on a non-stop party train trying to make the best of the break. But, alas, school starts in, like, two days so it's time to settle and if I don't update this now who knows when I'll get around to it. Sad part is I've had this ready for uploading since I posted the last chapter... sorry, don't hate me :(

Oh and the reason for no Dave in this chapter is because... I needed to give a little back story into Sunny's life, get him in New Directions, introduce Pony and Dillon, and I thought it'd be fun to see if I could tackle the personality of most of the Glee club members. I think I did a good job? Do you. If not I deeply apologize and please, any tips anyone has on who I got wrong and how I could improve them let me know. Another reason was because when I tried to write Dave into this chapter, I didn't want this to be a story where the characters just sat around thinking about one another all day because that's just very unrealistic. But never fear because next chapter we're back to sticking to Dave like glue.

And, as for reviews, while yes, I'd absolutely be thrilled if I got more, I'm actually pretty okay with just a favorite or story alerts, as long as you guys are reading. If you're just too tired to leave a message don't worry about it. When you're ready, I'll be waiting ;D


	6. Ouch

**Disclaimer:** I ONLY own my Oc. Nothing else.

**_~*_****Don't You Want Me?_*~_**

**_By, Can't Get Any Better_**

_Chapter 6: Ouch_

_!~*~!_

_I need a boy who can make me go ouch_

_Do you know what I'm talkin' bout - Johnnyboyxo_

_!~*~!_

Dave was exhausted. He'd been forced to work extremely late last night, getting home just a little before midnight. He'd immediately went upstairs after arriving home from his shift and trudged away upstairs to disappear from the face of the earth until it was time for him to get up for school the next morning. At least it was Friday, and he didn't have to work Saturday or Sunday so the weekend would be all his.

The thought brought something that highly resembled a smile to Karofsky's face—until he locked eyes with his "girlfriend" that is. She stood in the hallway next to her locker with a few other Cheerios, a seductive smile spreading across her lips when she caught sight of the large jock heading her way.

"Hey, baby," she purred, sliding up to him and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Get a room," a disgusted voice sounded nearby that caused Dave to tense up. He looked up to find none other than Scott Evans, captain of the McKinley hockey team standing nearby, flanked by a few of his hockey buddies.

"Jealous?" Lisa snapped, giving the boy a tight smile.

"Oh something I've already used and thrown away?" Scott laughed. "Nah, If Karofsky wants my sloppy seconds he's more than welcomed. Not like he could ever score his own girl anyways."

In a second, Dave had pulled away from Lisa and had Scott shoved up against the lockers. If there was one person who could irk the boy's nerves better than anyone else it was Scott, and he would more than welcome another suspension if it meant acquainting his fist with the cocky boy's pretty face.

Dave's teammates stepped in just in time to prevent Scott's from jumping into the fight sure to break out. The hall was deathly silent, all eyes watching the two boys with anticipation of who'd draw blood first, most betting on Karofsky.

"All right, ladies, break it up!" the unmistakable bellow of Coach Beastie sounded and quickly everyone returned to their business as the hulk of a woman came and ripped the two boys apart. "Evans take your shoes and your buddies for a walk."

Glaring over the woman, Scott gave a warning point to Karofsky before he fixed his hockey jersey and motioned for his teammates to follow him down the hall, the moment they were gone, Coach Beastie turned to Dave.

"And what are you thinking? One more suspension and you know you're off my team. Do you understand me, Karofsky?"

Karofsky pushed his tongue into his cheek, breathing in and out slowly until he was able to reply calmly: "Yeah, Coach."

"Bunch of babies," the woman grumbled, releasing Karofsky and glaring at the other members of her team and Lisa with him before turning and walking off, not having to deter her path an inch as the students quickly moved aside for her.

The moment she was gone, Lisa returned to Dave's side, cuddling her body into his side.

"It was so hot of you to defend me like that, Dave."

"What?" Dave had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Then he remembered, Evans had said something pertaining her being a slut and he forced a smile and nodded. He honestly didn't care about that part, and it wasn't like it wasn't true anyways. "Oh, yeah, anytime baby."

The bell sounded and Dave was more than happy to part from the clingy chick, shoving aside an innocent nerd as he made his way inside Mr. Schue's class, taking his usual seat and dropping his head into her arms on the desk. Now he had a headache, and the last thing on his mind was learning a new language useless to him.

"Buenos Dias everybody," the chipper man greeted the students and Karofsky groaned—he hated chipper. "Today we're gonna mix it up a bit. I'm gonna set everyone up with a partner, and we're gonna have a good, healthy debate… in Spanish."

This entices another moan from Dave. His eyes rove the room and lock on Sundae who is reclined coolly in his seat. With his luck, that was most likely who Dave would end up being partnered with. For some reason, God had it out for him and he had no idea why. It wasn't like he was a terrible person or anything.

Surprisingly enough, Dave didn't get paired with Sundae which he was more than happy to silently do ten Hail Mary's for. He instead got partnered with the boy's mute little seatmate, Rebecca. They debated, and lost miserably, against the team of Mercedes Jones and Tina Cohen-Chang. The loss came mainly from the fact that he could count on both hands the amount of the Spanish language he knew, and that he'd ended up getting the only partner who knew it all, but was too shy to open her mouth and speak.

Sundae ended up being paired up with Artie Abrams and, despite only being the last one in the class, the pair apparently dominated their debate. Dave didn't understand a word of what either team had said, but when Schue declared them the victors and received a round of applause from the class, he figured it was safe to say they'd easily won.

At the sound of the bell the class filed out of the classroom. Dave's eyes bore into the back of the blonde-haired nuisance who'd jumped him in the bathroom yesterday as he exited the classroom, talking with his table partner Rebecca Falcon. Karofsky wanted nothing stronger than to walk up to him and shove his fist down his throat for the stunt he pulled after class the previous day but that would possibly hurt him more than Sundae. And, surprisingly enough, he was a little worried that maybe—just maybe—Sundae could possibly take him. It took a lot of strength to pin someone as big as Karofsky, and Sundae had done it very easily despite his extremely unintimidating physique. The little twerp was a lot tougher than he appeared.

Karofsky stalked from the room, his already sour mood now darkened at the mere thought of yesterday's incident. Someone would definitely be getting a serious slushie to the kisser today if he had anything to say about it.

Stepping from the class, Karofsky's eyes were glued to far off down the hall where Sundae stood next to what he assumed was Rebecca's locker as the girl was currently fishing around inside of it for books.

"Delivery, nerds!"

Neither of the teens had a moment to react as they were suddenly doused in blue ice, thrown onto them by snickering jocks dressed in hockey jerseys. The boys zipped through the halls, high-fiving at their latest victims before they disappeared from sight, leaving Sundae and Rebecca looking at their ruined clothes in shock and disgust.

Karofsky couldn't contain his smirk of glee as he strutted past the pair. Hockey jerks or not, he was glad somebody could bright Motta back down to his place at the bottom of the heap where he belonged. And Rebecca was no strange to a slushie-facial herself as she fell into the "nerd" section of the McKinley food chain.

"Nice look, Motta," he sneered as he stepped by the two. Sundae glared at him as he turned around to walk backwards. "Blue is really your color."

Chuckling, he turned back around and continued down the hall, his mood definitely lightened now. Oh yeah, today was already beginning to look up for Dave Karofsky.

By lunch, the slushie fiasco had the boy in such a good mood that he didn't even bother to try to come up with an excuse to squirm away from Lisa who was adamant about spending her lunch seated in his lap. In his mind, he continued to play the event on repeat, freezing frame on the shocked "why me?" face Motta wore. Priceless.

Of course the satisfaction would have been much sweeter had the slushie come from his own hands, but he himself had gotten in a slushie or two on a few of the drama club freaks with Azimio and a few other Titians to keep him tied over.

"So, you excited about our weekend?" he heard Lisa speak as he bit blissfully into his fried bologna and cheese sandwich. She was seated in his lap, back pressed against his chest. Normally Karofsky would have been really uncomfortable, but he felt so damn good it didn't even bother him. And plus she was surprisingly not beings as hands-on as she usually was which really helped.

"What about it?" he asked through a mouthful.

"Well," Lisa said softly, leaning her head back into his shoulder. "You know," she giggled.

And then the hands started roaming lower and it took everything he had for Karofsky to keep the wad he'd chewed off his sandwich from falling from his mouth into her hair.

With the Sundae incident, he'd completely forgotten about his promise to officially "hook-up" with Lisa this weekend.

Maybe I should just do it, he thought to himself. She's slept with damn near everybody so she's gotta be a good lay. And even if she wasn't, so what? Actually going through with it and having sex with Lisa would definitely erase any lingering rumors about his sexuality—no matter how true they actually were.

"Yeah," he lied, forcing a smile. "Of course."

Lisa smiled, satisfied. She returned to nuzzling against his chest and Dave gulped down the chewed food particles that remained in his mouth. He'd have to do a lot of Kutcher imagining to get through this weekend for sure. Lisa was hot, definitely, but she was sure as hell no Ashton Kutcher.

His eyes happened to travel to the door in the moment of silence at his table just in time to see it open, and in step a very pissed-looking Sundae Motta. His surprisingly blue-free hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and he wore a completely new set of clothes from what he'd been wearing this morning and Dave couldn't help but notice how the boy's purple skinny jeans and stylish blue flannel top greatly contrasted with his choice of fashion which was a simple grey v-neck t-shirt and old faded jeans. It made him wonder if a great fashion sense was something that all gay guys had that just skipped over him. Or, God willing, maybe he wasn't gay at all and just going through that experimental phase you try in college prematurely. He'd gone through puberty before all the other boys in middle school, why couldn't this just be the same case?

He craned his neck to look down into Lisa beautiful face while her attention was on a text message. He took in her full, glossy pink lips, lush, silky blonde hair, and flawless peach complexion and assured the fact that it definitely wasn't a phase. This girl was fucking Vogue model material and she didn't even give his cock the tiniest stir. Zip.

He returned his attention to Sundae who looked around the sea of students, standing confidently there in the doorway as if half the teens in the room hadn't just watched him get a slushie-shower an hour ago and that made Karofsky's blood boil. Why the hell did he have to be so confident and self-secure all the fucking time? This was high school for God's sake—who was secure about anything about themselves these days?

Apparently Sundae found what he was looking for and began moving towards a table near the lunch line. He took a seat next to Rebecca Falcon who smiled warmly at him before proceeding to introduce him to her two friends whom all looked like a bunch of computer nerds you'd see on a Best Buy commercial.

Karofsky couldn't help but glower at the table as he watched Sundae smile and shake hands with everyone at the table.

He does have a cute smile though, he couldn't help but think watching them. Really nice teeth.

Shaking his head, Karofsky cleared his mind of the thoughts. He couldn't do this again. Not only because he couldn't risk having another accident like he did in the locker room with Hummel, but because he couldn't even bring himself to like this kid as a person, let alone have a crush on him. No. Sundae Motta was definitely out of the question. He could repress this, just like he'd done for Hummel up until that breaking point, and everything else in his life that pertained to his dirty little secret. Surviving in this place was already hard enough, and the last thing he needed was people giving him shit for his sexuality, especially as an athlete. You never heard of a gay athlete in magazines or on television because there was no such thing as one. Homosexuality and football just didn't mix.

Come fourth period, Dave ignored the fierce looks Mrs. Ackerman shot him much easier than usual, walking back to take his place at his seat. Not long afterwards did Sundae enter the room, grinning at the teacher who gave him a welcoming shoulder grab. He made his way to his stool and took a seat, not sparing Karofsky a single glance. When class started he still didn't speak. When the class period reached its halfway point and Sundae was already finished with the worksheet Ackerman had assigned while Dave wasn't even halfway through, he still hadn't uttered a single word to his partner. Well Dave, never one to be ignored, just didn't find that acceptable.

"So, what happened to your blue seat?" he said tauntingly. "It was much more fitting."

Instantaneously his partner's body visibly tensed and Karofsky smiled triumphantly. Nothing was more satisfying for a bully than getting a rise out of your chosen victim.

Sundae didn't respond, though his grip on the pen in his hand tightened as he tapped it against the top of the desk, choosing to ignore the jock. But Karofsky wasn't going to let things go this easy knowing he was getting to him.

"What's the matter, homo? No smart lip now?"

Sundae's head snapped in his direction, fixing Dave with a cold stare.

"Do I really need to put you in your place again, Karofsky?"

"You came up behind me," Dave snapped, snarling. "If you'd come at me front the front things would have gone much differently."

"Yeah, you would have ended up on your back instead of your stomach," Sundae quipped, smiling tightly at the boy.

"You know what? Fuck you. All you fags are all the same: you think you're so fucking high and mighty and that you're better than everybody else!" he whispered harshly, struggling to keep his voice at a volume where Mrs. Ackerman couldn't hear them.

"You're one to talk, Pork Chop!" Sundae retorted loudly, not caring that immediately all attention in the class was on their table. "The way you analyze me so thoroughly makes me wonder if I'm not the only homo in this scenario!"

Karofsky's eyes flared. He grabbed the boy by his collar and roughly had him against the wall in the next minute. His fist reeled back to go in for the kill.

"Stop it right this minute! Both of you to the Principal's office. Now!"

Dave didn't move and kept his fist raised, prepared to strike. His eyes bore into Sundae's who glared right back. Begrudgingly, he released him before grabbing his bag and storming from the room. Sundae waited before for a moment, fixing his rumpled attire before calmly scooping up his messenger bag onto his shoulder and walking from the room.

The moment he stepped around the corner he was again grabbed by the collar and harshly shoved up against a locker. He looked up, not surprised to find Karofsky once again hovering over him, fuming.

"Now where were we?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So this chapter isn't edited past Word's spell and grammar checker 'cause I really didn't have the time tonight 'cause I've got like SO much schoolwork to get done... in fact... why am I even typing this right now? Hope you enjoyed! Fav, alert, review! Love you guys!


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